


Consort of Ice and Shadows

by Animad345



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Manipulative Man in the Moon, Newborn Spirit Jack, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Prostitution, Weakened Pitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23497702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Animad345/pseuds/Animad345
Summary: One night, during a rare visit to the outside world, the Nightmare King came across a winter sprite lying in the snow. With the Man in the Moon bearing witness to this encounter, the Nightmare King was certain that the new-born spirit was merely a trap. Still, two can play at a game of corruption, and the winter sprite ends up in the crossfire. Yet he turns out not to be the submissive, fatalistic individual either the Man in the Moon or the Nightmare King expected, and he certainly will not allow himself to be manipulated by either of them. No, he has plans of his own - after all, is there a better consort for shadows than ice?
Relationships: Jack Frost/Pitch Black
Comments: 19
Kudos: 257





	1. Chapter 1

Pitch rarely ventured out of his lair these days. He was accustomed to the darkness and that of the nightmares, true, but there was still a primal longing to visit the outside world. Eventually, he gave in. It was a snowy day as he ventured through the forest. He nearly growled aloud as the sun began to set and, too soon after, the bright, full moon appeared.

“Come to taunt me, old friend?” he said, hardly managing to inject his signature malevolence into his voice. He was just plain exhausted. He carried on wandering, until he spotted something lying in the snow. He hesitated, before curiosity won out. It appeared to be a mortal, in the position of a snow angel – he had every so often seen humans doing this and heard what they called it, as they basked in the snow and made ridiculous gestures with their arms and legs.

There were two major differences in this situation to what he had seen previously; this human was stark naked, and unmoving. Pitch glared up at the moon again. “And what is this, exactly?” he demanded, edging closer. He felt a shudder rise up through him, and was beginning to doubt very much that it was a human lying there. He moved even closer. It appeared to be a young man with snowy white hair and pale skin.

No human could survive here for long. This had to be a winter sprite. Had the Man in the Moon deliberately engineered this? What was Pitch expected to do? As he thought about the matter, he idly summoned shadows, which fell upon the sprite and covered him, the new clothing appearing not dissimilar to the robe that Pitch himself wore.

Again, he mused, the same thoughts swirling around again and again. Was this happening an accident on the Man in the Moon’s part, or was it deliberate?

Pitch felt himself drawn to the creature, but surely that was the point. He had to be a trojan horse of sorts. “What would you have me do now?” he said, but he was barely talking to his nemesis at this point. A winter sprite… there were many across the earth, and they were often powerful. Useful, certainly.

What harm could there be to take him back to his lair? If the sprite awoke and panicked, he could leave. Pitch wasn’t about to force him to stay, especially as he had reason to doubt the creature. He sighed and scooped up the sprite in his arms and carried him back where he had come from.

***

The sprite lay in his robe, cradled by more shadows on the ground. He whimpered and writhed around, but showed no signs of waking. Strangely, this disturbed Pitch. As the Nightmare King, he had seen and caused terror, but the thought of a frozen creature remaining in his lair for much longer troubled him.

He had assigned one of his nightmares to watch over the sprite while he was away and to inform him when he awoke. He didn’t have to wait long before he heard the whinnying of the nightmare. He approached the sprite and waved away the nightmare, who snorted as though this task had been rather beneath her.

The sprite’s eyes snapped open. He gazed at Pitch for a while, and Pitch instinctively reared back. He knew full well that he was a fearsome sight, something he normally prided himself on above all, but part of him did not want to scare the sprite that he had so generously brought into his own home. At least, not straightaway.

“What is your name, little one?” he asked quietly.

The sprite didn’t answer for a while and Pitch begun to feel uncomfortable.

The sprite was gazing back at him, speculating. He was utterly inscrutable and Pitch didn’t know how to interpret it. Then, the sprite smiled.

“Jack Frost,” he said. His voice was bright. 

“I am…” Pitch stopped. After all, Jack had not asked him who he was at all, and he had no desire to introduce himself as the Nightmare King.

“I know who you are.” There was a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

“Pray, how?” Pitch was growing slightly annoyed now. Jack had put him on the backfoot with only a look and a few words.

“The Moon told me,” he said simply, and he stood. He looked down at his new outfit. Pitch was inclined to be defensive over this. After all, Jack had been bare, and what did Pitch know about the fashion of winter sprites?

But Jack did not seem displeased. He ran his hands over the fabric and the robe turned white, adorned with frost and snowflakes.

The Moon had told him, hm? A trap. A definite trap.

Jack ran a hand through his shock of white hair.

“Are you not going to say anything, my king?” His tone was teasing, and yet there was a strangely reverent note beneath it. That of a courtier speaking to a royal.

Pitch was tempted to throw Jack out immediately.

“What else did the Moon tell you, Jack?” he hissed.

“Not much else,” Jack replied disingenuously. 

Pitch threw his arms out in an expression of irritation, one he had adopted from humans but never used, and Jack appeared to misunderstand.

He walked straight into Pitch’s arms and wrapped himself around Pitch’s waist, which he barely came up to.

“Will you keep me, my king?”

Pitch was about to shove Jack away, but he was developing plans of his own. Better to keep the sprite where he could see him rather than unleash him back into the world, where he could come back and do actual damage.

If the Man in the Moon thought he could trick Pitch again, he was sorely mistaken. The Nightmare King and the lunar spirit were as conniving as each other, in that way. He felt a mild sense of pity for Jack Frost, who had been thrust into his situation, but things were what they were.

“I suppose I must, for now,” he replied to the foolish sprite, who was still wrapped around his waist, apparently oblivious.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack found these last words rather amusing. He was smiling, his face pressed against the elder spirit’s robe. In fact, he had to stifle laughter after a time. He was playing a game of how long he could embrace the Nightmare King until he was pushed away.

He sighed when he thought about what the Moon had told him. What a lecture! Anyway, he was here now and this supposed royal was something of an interesting individual. He could understand why some would perceive the elder spirit to be frightening, but the Nightmare King was so wary that it almost wasn’t funny anymore.

Jack envisioned that once upon a time, the Nightmare King had lived up to his name and ruled in terror, but those days appeared far behind him - so much so that it perplexed Jack as to why the Moon was so cautious.

“Well?” snapped the Nightmare King and Jack had to resist laughing again. “Are you going to let go?”

Jack pulled away finally, and bowed his head meekly. “I’m sorry, my king.” He hoped the elder spirit didn’t notice the ghost of a smile still on his face. “Please forgive my impertinence.”

The Nightmare King's face was a picture. He appeared genuinely bewildered and confused, which now struck Jack as not being particularly beneficial to either of them. Jack was meant to be submissive and polite, but he could not suppress his naturally playful nature – besides, a part of him suspected that the elder spirit did not want a lifeless vessel. 

There had to be some balance, Jack decided.

Jack was sure that he had been taken in as an ally, because the Nightmare King did not want him as an enemy. It gave Jack a strange sense of power. Under usual circumstances, Jack would be merely a winter sprite, and the Nightmare King would have nothing to concern himself with, but with the intervention of the Moon…

“You may familiarise yourself with these surroundings,” said the Nightmare King and Jack nodded quickly. “You may stay here as long as you are of use to me. Will you be of use to me, Jack?”

“Oh, most definitely, my king,” said Jack, the gravity of the situation finally catching up from him. The sombre expression on his face was not faked now. “You will see.”

***

What a curious place this was. Time, for a spirit, passed by quickly. Jack found himself lost almost immediately, inspecting everywhere that he could, seeking out as much information as he could draw from his surroundings.

Jack was rarely afraid, but when he came to an area of pure darkness, alarm bells begun to ring. As he walked, he found nothing there. He tried to walk back, and could not find his way. Foolish thoughts about being stuck in limbo forever formed, until… ah!

There was the Nightmare King, sat on his throne.

“You fear nothingness, do you, Jack?”

Well-played, Jack thought. Putting him at ease by allowing him to go off by himself for an unspecified amount of time, only to seek out weakness.

“I do, my king,” he replied. 

“Do you have cause to fear it?”

“Not all fears are rational, my king. Of course, you would know that far better than I.”

The Nightmare King seemed satisfied with this response.

The conversation lapsed, and yet Jack was not given permission to take his leave. He thought carefully about what action to take next. His display of physical affection was not well-received, which had been duly noted. He was quite sure that if he merely stayed where he was, the Nightmare King would grow annoyed and dismiss him.

So, the Nightmare King had deliberately placed Jack in a position where his actions would speak more than his words.

Jack straightened his back and walked towards the elder spirit, his head lowered. He moved to the right side of the throne, and sat down on his knees there, like a faithful pet.

As much as Jack did not want to reduce his standing from an equal to a servant, it was imperative that he did not come across as a threat.

When there was no response, Jack wondered if he had made a critical error.

He strained his neck to look up at the Nightmare King and read his expression.

The elder spirit was frowning, but he didn’t necessarily seem annoyed with Jack. He was pensive, slightly withdrawn.

“Pitch,” he said, then he stood and held out his hand.

Jack took it gratefully and stood up. The Nightmare King let go of his hand immediately.

“Pitch, my king?” asked Jack, feigning ignorance.

The Nightmare King’s eyes narrowed. “My name. You will call me that.”

Jack felt a rush of pleasure. If the Nightmare King – no, Pitch – was willing for Jack to use his name, then he must have done something right.

“I intend to be your ally in all ways, Pitch,” said Jack, wondering if he was pushing his luck, but unable to hold back his delight.

“You can certainly try,” said Pitch dryly, and motioned to the darkness. “You will be able to find your way back now.”


	3. Chapter 3

Pitch was quietly impressed with Jack’s transformation. How quickly the winter sprite had read the signs and assumed the demeanour that was appropriate to an ally. Of course, this was also a sign that Jack was capable of great deception, and only solidified Pitch’s view that the knife could be thrown at his back at any time.

But it would not happen now, no. The Man in the Moon would not create this creature, so complex and intelligent, just for that. Besides, the Nightmare King served his purpose.

He had been bested by the Guardians a very long time ago now, even though he had never even met them. He had no doubt the Guardians knew of him, purely by reputation. Did they know how much he resented them, though?

“Pitch?”

He shook his head, too caught up in his own musings to respond straightaway.

A moment later, he heard the sound of something hitting the ground.

He turned around and saw Jack lying sprawled on his back.

His eyes were still open, startled. “I’m… I’m not feeling well.”

A trick? If so, Jack was an even greater actor than Pitch had given him credit for. Yet, surely the winter sprite could not fake this.

His cheeks were flushed and he was gasping.

“It’s hot,” he said. “I’m too… I’m burning up…”

Pitch cursed himself for not realising straightaway. He scooped Jack up into his arms, like he had done only a few nights previously, and took him back to the outside world.

It was still snowing in the forest.

“A winter sprite such as yourself cannot thrive in perpetual darkness,” said Pitch, as Jack’s complexion brightened. “You cannot stay in my lair always. Though Jack, I do not believe you would want to do so anyway.”

“Thank you,” said Jack, but he still appeared dazed.

“I think you should stay out here for a while. I will leave one of my nightmares hear to keep you company… when you wish to come back, she will lead you.”

Pitch conjured the same nightmare that had watched over Jack before. Jack’s eyes widened at the creature and Pitch couldn’t help but enjoy the genuine emotion flitting across Jack’s face. It was boyish, and so very human.

The nightmare snorted her displeasure, but Jack only smiled and eventually the horse settled down.

Pitch slunk away, allowing the shadows to engulf him.

***

The lair felt empty without Jack. Pitch was intensely frustrated that he had allowed the winter sprite to take up space in his own life so easily.

Eventually, the nightmare returned with an almost guilty demeanour.

“Where is he?” Pitch snapped and the nightmare retorted by disappearing back into black sand, not taking well to her master’s tone.

Curse the winter sprite! He had already managed to evade Pitch’s control.

Though really, what had he expected?

Jack was a free spirit, pun unintended. Pitch had not shackled him, but he knew that if he did in any way, Jack would struggle against his chains.

The Man in the Moon had not created a mere puppet. No, he had breathed life into Jack and likely made all sorts of plans and orders… but Jack was a wild card. 

Pitch sighed, his hands steepled together.

Perhaps he had made a hasty choice in taking Jack in, but he had every intention of ensuring that it was worth his while.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack gazed up at the sky, waiting. The nightmare had left ages ago and he figured he didn’t have much time until the Nightmare King started plotting his demise for disobeying him.

He felt oddly guilty about his little performance back at the lair. Still, he had to find some way to get outside, especially at the exact right time. The Man in The Moon only spoke when he was full. A half, a crescent, a new – there was no getting hold of him. And even as he seemed to lose track of time, Jack had a clock in his head when it came to the lunar stages, a clock that had been placed in him by none other than its master.

Jack sighed. Pitch was right. Being around the snow did make him feel better.

It was a while before the Man in the Moon graced Jack with his presence.

And he stayed silent.

“I don’t have that long,” said Jack. “Talk to me!”

Still nothing.

“You put me here. You wanted me to do your bidding. You created me! And now you’re not even going to talk to me? Did I do something wrong?”

Frustration began to fill him and he was alarmed to find that he was close to tears.

“You created me. For him. You created me for the Nightmare King, and now you’re just going to drop me? What, I’m no longer of any use to you?”

Jack was so damned tired of that word. ‘Use’. Because that was all he was, just an object, an instigator – to the Man in the Moon and to the Nightmare King.

He rubbed his face. He wasn’t ready to go back to Pitch, but he couldn’t bear to bask in the moonlight any longer.

Silence. He hated it.

For once, he had to fake the smile on his face.

He could do this. He had to do this.

***

Jack couldn’t help but laugh as he flew back into the lair. Well, partly flew – the wind had carried him in, but the dead air underground made him fall pretty quickly. He had barely touched the ground when the Nightmare King loomed over him.

“Did you have fun?” he asked. His tone was neutral, but there was danger underneath it.

“Yes,” said Jack, then deciding this was not the right response, “I’ve been testing out my powers, so that I can be of more use to you.”

That word. That damned word.

“Or were you just playing in the snow?”

“I might have done a bit of that, too…”

Pitch gave a theatrical sigh. “I suppose you cannot help your nature.”

Jack sensed at this point that Pitch was being very restrained, and that it was probably best not to push him any further. At the very least, he probably deserved an explanation.

“I’m sorry that the nightmare ran away.”

“What did you do?”

Truth? Lie? Safer to go for the former. “I… uh… threw a snowball at it.”

He’d expected Pitch to react pretty badly to this, but he simply nodded, and Jack realised why. It was believable that Jack would do something so infantile. It made it seem less likely that Jack was conspiring with the moon against him.

“I wasn’t deliberately trying to throw it off the scent,” said Jack, for good measure.

“Her.”

“What?”

“Not it. Her. That's the second time you've made that error.”

“Ah.” Jack wasn’t sure what to say in the face of his own faux pas. “Right.”

“It’s best not to taunt my nightmares, Jack.”

“My apologies,” said Jack quickly. “I’m sorry, Pitch. I won’t do it again.”

“Indeed, you won’t.” Pitch looked at him with sharp eyes that didn’t miss a thing. “So, show me the results of your time outside.”

Jack nodded, concentrating hard. If the Man in the Moon had abandoned him, then all he had to focus his attentions on were the Nightmare King. He was the only thing that could anchor Jack. 

But deep down he knew that the Man in the Moon was still expecting Jack to do what he had been told. There had to be a reason for his silence.

Regardless, he was pretty sure that he couldn’t survive out there in the outside world on his own. He’d die of loneliness.

The thought made him shake his head. No, he had already died.

Bad thought. Very bad thought.

“Jack?”

'Don’t think about it. Just don’t. You’re here now, not there. No one’s going to hurt you…'

Jack smiled, even though his eyes were beginning to water. He held out his hand to Pitch and his palm filled with ice. He tried to make himself feel better by imagining throwing a snowball at Pitch, but he was still trembling.

Pitch frowned. "What is it?"

"Nothing, I just - "

"Don't lie to me."

"It's none of your business!"

The echoes of the yell rang out around the lair.

"I see," said Pitch. "So you're not an automaton, after all?"

Jack was breathing heavily. He nearly jumped when Pitch touched his shoulder.

"Calm down. Breathe."

"Why are you being nice to me?"

"Would you rather I not be? Does it disappoint you that one with a reputation such as mine would not always seek to live up to it?"

Jack couldn't reply.

"Enough, Jack. You're dismissed."

"What?" His voice came out much louder than he had intended. "You're kicking me out? Just give me a moment - "

"I'm giving you permission to no longer grace me with your presence."

"So you're kicking me out - "

"I'm saying that you don't have to stand here before me and you don't have to prove anything. Go."

Jack couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. "You're saying I can stay, but you want me to leave? To where? Another part of the lair?"

"Careful, Jack. Your mask is slipping."

"Or maybe I've just taken it off."

Pitch crossed his arms. "That wouldn't be a clever move on your part."

Jack was talking himself in circles. He took Pitch's advice and moved into the darkness, not saying another word.

He couldn't trust the Man in the Moon and he couldn't trust the Nightmare King.

Damn it, he couldn't even trust himself.


	5. Chapter 5

Pitch didn’t know what to do anymore. It was clear that Jack was in some sort of pain, that the Man in the Moon was manipulating the winter sprite somehow. And was Pitch any better? He hadn’t taken Jack in for altruistic purposes, after all.

The polished, playful veneer of before had vanished. In its place was a scared, lost child.

During the short period of time that Jack had been in the lair, Pitch had heard his own name spoken more than in all the centuries prior. Jack acted like saying Pitch’s name was a privilege, and yet now, now…

Pitch thought that he had grown entirely used to silence, but Jack’s retreat into himself was making itself known. The quietness around the lair was telling.

He’d lose Jack in the darkness for days at a time, and first thought nothing of it, but every time he did see Jack, he had been mute.

He needs time to himself, Pitch had decided. That was perfectly normal, even for a lively creature such as Jack.

Pitch had no doubt now that Jack had snuck out to see the Man in the Moon. What on earth had the lunar spirit said to Jack?

He sighed and allowed himself to be consumed by the shadows.

***

The next time Pitch found Jack, he was thrashing about on the ground. Having concluded that the last time he had seen Jack in distress it had been an act, he shouldn’t have paid this any heed, except…

“No, I can’t!” The voice was frantic. “I can’t – I can’t – ”

Pitch grabbed Jack by the shoulders and sat him up, holding him firmly.

“You can’t what, Jack?”

“I’m tired – but I can’t sleep – I mustn’t – ”

The words were broken by a yawn. Every bit of Jack’s face showed his exhausted state.

“It was – the moon – he’s making me sleep – if I do, I won’t wake up, I won’t – ”

“Of course you will,” said Pitch, trying not to show his confusion.

“No, you don’t know that. Pitch, you – you don’t understand.”

“I think you do need to sleep, Jack. Why don’t you close your eyes for a moment? I’ll stay. Nothing will happen to you.”

“You’ll… you’ll stay?” Pitch nodded. “Do you promise?” Jack sounded so young. Pitch cursed himself for the foolish thought. Of course he was young; he was barely initiated into this life, into this incarnation of himself.

“I promise.”

Jack was still breathless, but Pitch watched as he calmed down. He began to breathe evenly. Pitch created a small cot made of shadows and allowed Jack to drop onto it. His eyes closed.

Pitch considered leaving. As if the Man in the Moon would create Jack, only to harm him! It did seem strange to Pitch that an active, new-born spirit would have any great need to sleep, but things were never so simple.

As he stood to leave, he felt a pang. He looked back down at Jack. He had made a promise, and he should keep it. If Jack woke up to find he wasn’t there, how would he react?

Pitch sighed and sat down beside Jack. He gently carded his hands through that thick white hair in what he hoped was a soothing gesture.

Had he made a terrible mistake in taking Jack in?

He was feeling uncharacteristically protective over the younger spirit, but that could be another of the Man in the Moon’s tricks.

Better not to think too much of it now. Better to let the winter sprite rest.

Time would tell if his actions had been the right ones, or if they would only prove damaging for the both of them.


	6. Chapter 6

When Jack awoke and remembered everything, he was so embarrassed that he could hardly stand it. He actively avoided Pitch for as long as possible. He trudged through endless darkness, often close to tears.

An agreement had been made – even when the Man in the Moon was not there, even when Jack was buried deep underground, he would be observed. If the lunar spirit felt that the winter sprite was straying, he would be condemned to sleep.

Jack couldn’t face Pitch, because this reminder had filled him with guilt.

The Man in the Moon’s aim was not entirely straightforward.

The lunar sprit clearly felt a measure of culpability for what had happened to Pitch, for what had made him the Nightmare King in the first place, very much against his will.

It was a chance for redemption; he would create a spirit that would compliment Pitch, to give him the company he so craved and – most importantly – to distract him enough that he would no longer rage against the Guardians.

The Man in the Moon advised Jack that Pitch had been plotting against the Guardians for years. It became quickly obvious that The Man in the Moon could not monitor all spirits, and only Jack because he had been designed this way.

In which case, it looked like the Man in the Moon was wrong.

Pitch did not look like he was up to much of anything. He was weary and seemed oh, so very old. He lurked and loomed. He had allowed Jack into his life full of suspicion, with nary a sign that he desired a companion. He was keeping an eye on Jack, nothing more.

And Jack was still alone.

***

“You have been avoiding me, Jack.”

Pitch’s voice was silky.

“Do you know why I’m here?” asked Jack.

“Because The Man in the Moon commanded it.” Pitch began to circle Jack slowly, his hands linked behind his back. “Because he wants to keep me in my place, and he thought that he could use you as a bargaining chip.” Then, “I don’t blame you, Jack. You are being used. But I must ask, why you?”

Jack swallowed hard. “I owe him.”

It was immediately apparent that this was not the answer Pitch had expected. “How?”

“I was dying. He saved me.”

There was a glint of compassion in Pitch’s eyes.

“Did you ask him to save you?”

“Well, no. I was a little busy being strangled.”

Pitch winced and turned away. “In which, case you owe him nothing. You didn’t ask for his assistance.” The silence that followed stretched out. “I’m sorry, Jack. Would you like to tell me of the circumstances that led up to this occurrence?”

For a moment, Jack wanted to. He wanted to confide in the Nightmare King, but he didn’t want to see the disgust in his eyes that would inevitably follow.

“I can’t,” said Jack finally.

“I understand.” 

Jack looked up and Pitch was frowning at him.

“Jack, you don’t have to stay here. You can go anywhere in the world that you want to. However manipulative the Man in the Moon is, he would not strike you down entirely. You can wrest yourself out of his control.”

“I have nowhere to go.”

When Pitch spoke again, his voice sounded strained, like it was painful for him to even say the words. “There are other spirits. They would likely be more… welcoming. More suited to your nature. Considering how much partiality the Man in the Moon shows towards them, I doubt he’d disallow that.”

“You want me to leave?”

Pitch stopped circling. His hands dropped back to his sides and he stared at Jack with an indecipherable expression.

Going by his expression, Pitch appeared to surprise himself as well as Jack when he said, “No.”

Jack knows that this admission is not out of genuine affection. As long as Jack was no longer a threat, why should Pitch want to keep him around? On the other hand, Pitch was not willing to offer Jack up to the other spirits.

He didn’t particularly want Jack, but he didn’t want anyone else to have him.

Interesting, but not flattering.

“Can you show me a way out?” asked Jack. “I don’t particularly wish to associate myself with any other spirits, but I’d like to be able to go outside whenever I want to and there is no apparent exit.”

Pitch gestured above and a gleam of light shone. “There.”

“Thank you,” said Jack quietly. A revelation was coming to him now. If he was able to gain agency, he would not have to answer to the Man in the Moon anymore. Now that Pitch was being open, Jack no longer needed to concern himself with lying to him.

Joy soared through him, though it was tempered with worry. His life could be his own again.

The question was: what did he plan on doing with it?


	7. Chapter 7

Pitch was restless. Jack had not yet come back, and it had been days. Perhaps Jack was in the lair somewhere, hiding in the darkness, needing his own space, but normally Pitch could sense it the moment he was in the lair.

A gasping sound filled the air as Pitch finally stumbled upon the winter sprite. Jack was on the ground, struggling to breathe. There was a collection of dark bruises around his neck.

The fury that filled Pitch was unlike any he had ever felt before.

“Who did this to you?” he growled, pulling Jack to his feet.

Jack shook his head. He still couldn’t talk.

“Jack,” said Pitch gently, hoping that this tone would coax out answers.

There were tears falling down the winter sprite’s cheeks and, before Pitch’s very eyes, the bruises disappeared. Jack gave a gasp, coughed, and then seemed to return to normal.

Pitch stood frozen. “What…?”

“I told you,” said Jack. “I owe him. He’s reminding me of that.”

As much resentment as Pitch held towards the Man in the Moon, he had never thought of the lunar spirit capable of such cruelty.

“Are you sure?” asked Pitch hesitantly.

“What else could it be?” said Jack, wiping away the tears. “He knows that I’m striking out, that I no longer feel under his control.”

Pitch gazed at Jack. A strange feeling was filling his chest. Of course he was affected by the horrendous luck and fate of the winter sprite, but this was different. 

“There’s a way to remedy that,” said Pitch.

Jack shook his head. “I doubt that, but I’m listening.”

“We convince him that you’re doing your job properly.”

“My job?”

“Yes. What you were sent here to do.”

Jack’s eyes widened as realisation appeared to dawn on him. “Oh, I see. But, you really think we can fool him?”

“I do.” Best not to say that his attachment towards Jack had grown, that maybe the faking wouldn’t be such a strain. “We don’t hate each other, you and I. We have tolerated each other’s company.”

“But it doesn’t make any sense. You didn’t have a plan to take down the Guardians – ”

“Which shows that he doesn’t know everything.”

Jack bit his lip, which made him look a lot younger. “True.”

“Your death must have been traumatic,” said Pitch slowly.

Jack sighed. “Sometimes I wish I had died that night. That would be easier, wouldn’t it? For you, as well. You could have gone on as you were before.”

It pained Pitch to hear such words. “You mustn’t regret being here, Jack. Regardless of his intentions, the Man in the Moon gave you a second chance.”

“Only to use me.”

“Or, he recognised your value and would not let you go for that reason.”

“Right,” said Jack moodily. “And his reason to turn me into a puppet just came later, then?”

“You’re not a puppet, though, are you?”

Jack’s hands hovered around his gullet. He was deep in thought. Pitch waited, trying to erase in his mind the sight of the bruises around that slender white neck.

Who had done that to him? Who had taken Jack's life away to begin with?

He was about to ask, but he had a sense that he would be rebuffed like the last time. One day, Jack would tell him. When the time was right.

***

That night, Pitch left his lair again. The moon was full. “Old friend,” he murmured. “When did you become so cruel? And yet your precious Guardians think of me as the villain.” The Man in the Moon, as usual, did not grace the Nightmare King with a response.

It took him a while to remember the plan, so caught up as he was in his emotions.

“Regardless,” he continued. "Jack is mine now. He will be well looked after. So perhaps you got what you wanted, after all.”

There was no point in laying it on too thick. The lunar spirit was too old and wise to believe Pitch spewing platitudes about love and devotion for the winter sprite.

No, this was something that needed to be shown through actions.

He retreated back into his shadows and resolved to discuss this matter further with Jack. Together, he was certain that they could carry off his idea.


	8. Chapter 8

Jack began to leave the lair for days at a time. He spent most of these in the forest where the Man in the Moon placed him, where the Nightmare King found him. One day, he ventured into the local town, restless and curious. He is nearly outside the neck of the woods when he saw a young woman and a young man with their arms wrapped around each other.

They were kissing.

The sight of such physical contact brought back memories. If Jack were a human, he was certain that he would throw up.

And yet he couldn’t stop looking.

He was used to seeing frantic, desperate acts – not ones laced with love and affection. So in that way, this was different. He felt strange looking at them, realising that he never had that as a human.

He had watched other people many times. It had been his job, for goodness sake.

He wondered what Pitch would think if he ever knew the truth. He’d be disgusted, no doubt. Jack was disgusted too, but he had had no choice in the matter. With no family or friends to defend him or hide him away, he had been snatched and manipulated.

He closed his eyes and saw everything before him.

Raised in an orphanage, he had grown up knowing how to defend himself from the older children. He wasn’t particularly tall and he was quite scrawny, but he was stronger than he looked. He was thrown out as he got older, as it was decided that he should make his own way now.

He picked up odd jobs around the village, just about making enough money to feed himself and to stay in his dirty, unwelcoming lodgings.

One day, he had come across a small, uninviting building at the end of an unusual passage. Two people were coming out, a large man and a young woman. They were grappling at each other furiously. Jack was about to leave, but the man spotted him.

That was the beginning of the end.

That was when his life, which he had had little control over to begin with, had gone horribly wrong.

***

The exhaustion was coming back as he entered the lair. He tripped over, fell on his face, and didn’t even care. He lay facedown for a long time before he heard Pitch’s voice.

“What are you doing Jack?” Then, in a darker tone, “Has he hurt you again?”

Jack’s eyes were filling with tears. “If you knew what I was before this, you’d hate me.”

“I doubt that. Come now, get up.”

And Jack did, averting his eyes. “I saw a couple kissing in the forest today.”

Pitch’s brows furrowed. “What of it? Does it sadden you that you will not be able to experience such human frivolities again?”

Jack bit his bottom lip, hard, as though it would stop him from speaking further.

“I used to work in a brothel,” he said. Pitch’s expression didn’t change. “I wasn’t a prostitute, but I’d… uh… I’d look after the men and women that worked there. Sometimes, if a particularly rough client showed up, they’d ask me to sit in the room behind a screen and watch.”

“I think I can see where this is going.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I suppose a client grew violent, you stepped in to protect the man or woman, and he turned on you instead. Strangled you.”

“Y-yeah.” Jack unconsciously touched his neck, remembering how painful it had been. He had been dragged outside, had his lights punched out and then those rough, bruising hands were around his neck. His last sight had been the beautiful full moon in the night sky.

“I’m not entirely sure why you think I’d judge you for that, Jack. You forget who you are conversing with again. But I am curious. If you hated it so, why work there?”

“One night, I saw a couple stumbling out of the building. I was just walking past, taking an different route home. It turned out the man was someone important and when he saw me, he reported it back immediately. They didn’t want to risk losing one of their most well-paying clients, so they blackmailed me into working there, where they could keep an eye on me and ensure that I didn’t snitch.”

Pitch’s hands were linked behind his back. Jack expected Pitch to start circling him in thought, as he often did, but he stayed still.

“Which life is better, Jack? That one or this one?”

“This one,” admitted Jack. “Because there wasn’t any hope in the last one.”

“Hope,” repeated Pitch, a conflicted expression passing over his face. 

“It’s the one thing you can just about hold onto when you’re a human in such circumstances.”

“But there’s no hope in your life as a spirit either, is there?”

Jack looked up at Pitch, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Isn’t there?”


	9. Chapter 9

Pitch circled the sleeping Jack. Another Moon-induced slumber, no doubt. He was writhing around, whimpering, and the necklace of bruises was back on his neck. Pitch nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his own name being muttered. Seconds later, Jack’s eyes opened.

“How… how long have I been asleep?” His eyes were bleary. “This keeps… happening…”

“I don’t know, Jack.”

He made to leave, but he was close enough that Jack grabbed his robe. “Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving you in peace.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I’m not in peace. Can’t you stay for even a moment? It’s like you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I can’t avoid you when you’re asleep. That’s not how it works.”

But Pitch stayed, waiting for the winter sprite. The next thing he said was unexpected.

“You’re a king, right? Well, why don’t you have a queen? That’s normal for royals. They have children and then they pass their status down.”

“I have no need for offspring, Jack. I am an immortal. I will always carry this role.”

“It sounds lonely.”

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to get at, here.”

Jack cocked his head to one side. “Forget it.”

Annoyance coursed through Pitch. Of course, he wanted to know what Jack meant, but if he pursued it now he’d come across as overly eager.

That said, Jack didn’t seem to have any concerns about that.

“A position in this world is important, isn’t it?” said Jack. His period of conviction over ‘forgetting it’ had lasted approximately a minute. It nearly made Pitch smile.

“Yes, I suppose it is. I take mine for granted.”

He went over the conversation in his head again, frowning. Surely Jack wasn’t going down that path…

“A queen,” Pitch murmured. He’d never even thought about that.

“Yes,” said Jack. “Or rather, a consort.”

Even though Jack was still down on his knees, his face washed out with exhaustion, his hands planted firmly on the ground to keep him steady, his expression was resolute. He wasn’t smiling. No, he was serious.

Pitch lowered himself considerably in order to put his hand under Jack’s chin, tilting it up. “What are you offering me, Jack?”

Jack licked his lips, but it was clearly out of nervousness rather than in flirtation. “I thought I’d made it pretty clear.”

Jack took the hand that had been proffering his chin and kissed it reverently. 

Pitch hissed. “Don’t toy with me, Jack, or you will regret it tenfold.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“You should be mindful of the fact that, whilst you have presented many faces to me, I have only presented one to you. You should appreciate that it is very difficult to have faith in your words when I still cannot fully trust you.”

But he hadn’t snatched his hand away. He couldn’t bring himself to. Jack had turned it and pressed it against his cheek.

Pitch shut his eyes for a moment, and that was enough.

***

Later, much later, he was laid down on the ground of his lair. No soft furnishings made of shadows. There hadn’t been time for that. He had since put his robe back on, but Jack had his own white robe pressed against his chest, which did little in the way of covering up his nakedness.

“Weird,” murmured Jack, which wasn’t really what Pitch had wanted to hear.

“What is?”

“I guess I thought it would be mechanical.”

“That’s because you’re used to watching prostitutes and their johns, or janes.”

Pitch’s arm was still slung around Jack’s shoulder and when he went to remove it, Jack made a grumbling sound.

“I take what you said to mean you enjoyed it, then?”

“Yes,” said Jack, brows furrowed. “Wasn’t it obvious? You know, like when I – ”

“No need to verbalise it,” said Pitch quickly, knowing how ridiculous he was being. He’d been perfectly happy and more than enthusiastic throughout the whole act, but he didn’t want to talk about it. He was just comforted to know that Jack didn’t regret it.

“Did I make a good enough case to become your consort, then?”

Pitch laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Yes. Though you should know, I don’t care for labels. Call yourself whatever you like.”

He rolled over to see Jack’s expression, but he had fallen asleep again.


	10. Chapter 10

Jack had woken up in the lair alone, clutching his robe, and as bare as he had been the night that Pitch found him. He looked down at his own body, almost curiously, trying to see himself the way Pitch had while they had been entangled.

“Pitch,” he whispered. “You always leave.”

Within an instant, the shadow was looming over him.

“Do you intend on putting your robe back on any time soon?”

Jack smiled. “Do I have to?”

“Yes, or you’ll continually distract me.”

Laughing, Jack leapt to his feet and dressed himself.

“There’s no trick to this after all,” said Pitch. Jack knew it was a risky move, but he put his arms around Pitch’s next and kissed him. “Off, you brat. I was talking.”

Jack laughed again, but listened.

“The Man in the Moon sent you to me not as a bargaining chip, but as a peace offering. He hedged his bets on the idea that you would give me contentment, and therefore that I would never consider defying him or going after the spirits I so resent. What point would there be, when I had you?"

“And what of it?”

Jack’s heart was racing. He was scared, truly scared, of what Pitch would say next.

Pitch ran his hand through Jack’s hair, with a smile that was surprisingly gentle. “Looks like he really did get what he wanted, after all.”

~Fin~


End file.
